Amaranth 3
by OuyangDan
Summary: Post DA2 stories set in the Amaranth universe, sorted into their own story for organizational purposes. These will often appear out of order and are all related.
1. Who Do You Think You Are?

The question asked, Kahrin sat on the stone ledge of the window and stared at the King in front of her. Very much an uninvited guest to her misery here in Weisshaupt, of all the people she'd expected to walk through the door, he was not one of them.

"I think I'm the King, in case you forgot that favor you did for me. Someone had to come up here to remind the First Warden what Ferelden thinks of political prisoners."

"I'm not a prisoner, Alistair, I'm fine." she hissed slightly as she pulled back the ladder made of her shredded bedding.

He snorted. "Clearly. That's quite the clever plan you had there. Well thought out as usual I suppose." He held up her weapons and stated the obvious. "I have your swords. I thought you'd like them, and then we can leave."

"You can't just swoop in here," she hopped off of the ledge and reached out her hand expectantly into which he placed her family sword.

"Yes," he drew it out like he always did, "swooping is bad. At any rate," he looked at the other blade he still held, turning it over, as if the runes along the flat were fascinating, "we should leave now before your gracious host changes his mind."

Glowering at him again her face was incredulous. "I'm not telling them what they want to know, I'll not betray my family."

"Family," the derisive sound that came from him was a mixture of a snort and a laugh. "I heard you were married. Thank you for the invitation. I'm sure you're very happy."

"It was going to happen eventually," her icy voice shot back at him. "Should I have hand-delivered an invitation? Would that have pleased you? It was a rather quick occasion. You probably couldn't have fit it in."

"You had a family once," he spat. "You still do. It's been waiting for you to make up your mind. And now I see you have." he turned for the door, still holding her sword.

Sighing, she followed behind him, almost running into him when he stopped. "May I have my sword, please, _Your Majesty_?"

"Why not? I already gave it to you once. What's one more time, for old times' sake?" He held it out to her, pommel first, clamping his fingers over hers when she grabbed it. "I guess we never mattered to you, we've been waiting for _nothing_."

"You have your family, and I have mine. Let's just go back to that." Kahrin struggled to keep composure in her voice, but it had been so long.

His eyes narrowed and danced with rage that she should have seen coming. "Dammit, Kahrin. You _know_ what I have. A miserable marriage to a woman who loathes me and a beautiful little girl who is very much yours. _Ours_."

"It was for the best, it-"

"It's always 'this is for the best' with you! Did you ever stop to consider what I wanted? Out of all of this?" If anyone was in the hallway they were certainly getting a good show.

Looking up into his face, she narrowed her eyes. "You said "pick me". I asked, and that was what you said."

His voice boomed in response. "Me, _with_ you, together. That should have been obvious!" Alistair ran a hand down the back of his head and glared at the ceiling. "I would have followed you into the Void, Kahrin. Dammit! I still would. I didn't have to _be_ a king, Kahrin, you knew that." He paused for several beats and then laughed without humor. "Or, you could have kept your promise."

She winced visibly, the barb that he was always able to jab a little further tearing the wound fresh. "I wasn't ready. I was not right for the job." She hugged her sword to her chest and looked away from him.

Quieter now he walked back toward her. "I didn't think I was right for this job, but you convinced me. If I was wrong, maybe you were too." He laid a hand upon her cheek and looked at her long and hard. "Maybe you still are."

Every muscle in her body tensed when he touched her, making a million thoughts explode in her mind. "Alistair..."

"What is it, Kahrin?" She could feel him behind her, so close yet the only connection was his hand on her tattooed cheek.

She was quiet for a long time, keeping her breathing measured, not trusting her instincts to react for her. Everything about that simple gesture was familiar and inviting, and she clenched her eyes shut hard.

"We can't, I mean I …"

"I would have given you the world." He took a quiet breath. "I still would. You have to know that. You can't tell me that you never felt like that about us." He looked at her long and hard. "Kahrin? Tell me."

What did he want from her? If he didn't know by now, then that was on him.

"What did you think was going to happen, Alistair? That you'd come in here, like a heroic knight and I'd just fall into your arms? Forget my husband and let you whisk me away to your castle? Maker's sodding cock, Alistair, we've been over this." She shoved her hands into her hair and yanked hard.

"You,_ you_ have been over this. You never asked my opinion _Hawke_. Just go back to your new, better, family and forget about us. Should be pretty easy. You've been doing it for ten years."

Kahrin turned her face away from him, refusing to meet his eyes while tears stung hers.

"That's not fair, Alistair."

"Tell me something I don't already know." He dashed tears away from his own eyes and turned away from her, embarrassed to be reduced to crying. "Get away from me. So I don't have to look at you. Go back to your new life with _Hawke_ and _Howe_ and whoever else." He spat the last word.

"I turned a country on its ear for you, you arse, and you have the nerve to act as if I don't care for you."

"Yeah, well, you'll excuse me if I don't ask you for anymore favors. For either of us."

Taking a deep breath Kahrin stared at him. "She was never mine, Alistair. Did you think there was some bond that transcends the Void itself that would connect us over a girl that I-" she stumbled over it, and regained the lie. The lie that would do what she couldn't. "That I feel nothing for?"

His red, swollen, eyes flashed fury at her. "You don't mean that. You … there's no way you can mean that." Kahrin knew her words had landed the full effect of the blow she'd meant to throw, disowning the girl he loved more than anything in the world. Elyssa was everything to him, and she knew it.

Pushing ahead she dragged the lie out further. "I do mean it, every word. The night I placed her in your arms was the first time I ever touched her. She means nothing to me." And she would keep telling them both that until she actually believed it. "You can keep looking at me like I'm a monster, Your Majesty, but it isn't going to ch—change anything."

"Maybe you are a monster, _Hawke_." he growled, his tears drying.

Glaring at him, she remembered everything they had done, everything she had begged him to do, thought it had eaten a hole straight through her heart. "Perhaps. I did terrible things to keep you safe. I even lived so that you wouldn't die."

"I never asked you to do anything like that for me, so excuse me if I'm not exactly grateful, Kahrin."

"Well, that's a mistake I can correct easily enough." She turned from him and her words were cold as she began crying in heavy sobs. "Is that why you came here? To … to make me feel like shit?" She spat and then threw Maric's Blade at his feet with a shriek, tears streaming down her face. "I don't need this shit. Not from _you_. You were never like this before. How did I ever love anyone so cruel?"

Those words seemed to take the wind out of whatever he was about to say, and the King's shoulders slumped as if defeated. "I don't know why I came here. Not to fight." Crossing the room he sat on the edge of her stripped bed and stared at his hands. "You loved me?"

She turned about and looked at him incredulously. "Of course I did. How could you … even think otherwise?" She'd told him before, right? He had to have known. After everything.

"You never said it. Not until just now." The silence following his words was heavy enough to crush her chest.

"Surely that's not … is it?" she looked at him, wiping her eyes and he nodded almost imperceptibly. "Don't worry about the rest, though, it's one mistake I can fix. You'll never have to look at me again. I promise that."

"Yes, Kahrin, because that's what I want. The woman I still love to be dead. That will fix everything." He turned his head away from looking at her. "That will solve the problem, right there." Sighing he looked back to where she was standing. "You loved me once. I suppose that will have to be enough."

She moved hesitantly, then sat lightly upon his knee, and he reached an arm around and began rubbing her back awkwardly. It was as familiar as the steps of any dance or any form of templar training they had shared, and they both fell into the moment. "Of course I did … uh, do? I don't know, exactly. I … don't think that is the kind of thing that ever goes away, Alistair. I would have taken that final –" she choked on the last word, swallowed and went on, "without … the other stuff we did instead. And sometimes it hurts still, so much that I just … want it to all be over."

Alistair was quiet for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few moments as he pulled her head to his shoulder and ran fingers through her hair again. "Those things you just said to me? The first part? Please don't say them anymore. I … don't give me hope. But for Maker's sake, Kahrin. Don't die." His voice caught slightly, "I can't make myself stop caring to where that won't kill me."

"You can't save me, Alistair. It will happen to me eventually." She shrugged, "we still don't know about you." She sniffled and ran fingers through his hair just above his ear. The one he always tugged on when he was nervous. "I'm sorry that I never told you sooner. You deserved better than that from me."

She couldn't believe she'd never said it, not once, all of these years. Not once during all the months of the Blight. Not once during their affair the year after. Not even when she'd left their daughter with him.

"Yes, well, I guess we can't always have what we want, can we?"

"Perhaps not, but you shouldn't have had to ask." She looked up at him, her eyes still as wet as his as they both still cried but tried to blink it back.

He looked down at her hazel and green eyes and swallowed once, clenched his eyes shut, and then lifted her lightly off of his lap with two hands around her waist. Setting her on the floor on her feet, he stood up. "I guess maybe that's why I came here. I needed to know, one way or the other." He looked for a moment like he might reach out for her again, but didn't, and continued quietly. "We should probably … get back to our lives now. Outside that door."

Kahrin nodded once, walked over and picked her sword up from the floor. Regarding it for a long time, she spoke without taking her attention from the ancient blade. "It was tempting. Just so you know. It really was. It was … the second most difficult thing I've ever had to do." What she wouldn't say was that the top of that list had been leaving the night she'd given him Elyssa. The night she walked out of both of their lives.

She turned around and squeezed his hand once and smiled sadly up at him, and he took that same hand and kissed the back of it lightly.

"Commander Cousland Hawke. Goodbye and be well."

"For what it's worth, thank you for coming for me." Kahrin lifted up on her toes and laid a light kiss on his damp cheek. "You and your daughter do the same. Goodbye, Your Majesty."

They both walked out the door and went, again, their separate ways.


	2. Gone

It was a dream.

She knew it because she recognized all the signs. The light was just off and never the right colour and her movements were slow and sluggish.

They had been on the road for days, pushing to Jader to take ship, and finally when she and Alim had made camp for the night she refused his offers of revitalizing magic and collapsed in her tent. All she could think of was Carver. Getting to him, getting to the White Spire before the Hand's patience wore out.

Kahrin knew that they had little time to get there. The letter from Carver was tucked into the inside of her tunic, under her chest plate. He said he was fine. He said they'd give them time to reveal the information they sought. Every time she thought about the way he'd made her stand down, how she saw in his eyes the stubbornness that was unique to him make the decision for her.

_She_ was supposed to be the _Hero_. A title she carried begrudgingly meant even less when she couldn't save people she loved. She should have been able to save him, but when his mouth was hard on hers she knew he'd resolved to put himself out there to protect her, to protect them all. The blow to the back of her head with his pommel was nothing like the blow to her heart when she'd awakened to find him gone.

And now there was precious little time.

Funny thing about time, though, is that there is always so much of it, and yet never enough.

She walked through the bar in her dream which was so like the small tavern where she'd first met him. Pulling fingers along the wood of the rail at the bar she frowned deeply and heaved a weary sigh. She'd take a darkspawn dream over this place. This reminder of him and how much she missed him that left a pit of despair in her stomach, which had been empty for days.

Then, there he was, as real as the last day she'd seen him, and yet she knew it was only a dream.

He appeared, gasping for breath and clearly haggard. She had known Leliana and the life the bard had lead before joining the cloister. It was painfully obvious to Kahrin that she was plying that trade on him. Her husband. The one she vowed to love and to protect.

Running to his side she gasped in relief to see him at all, and pulled him to her, kissing his face over every place her lips could meet it. Cradling his head she cooed softly into his ear that it was going to be all right and fought her tears as he mumbled softly.

His eye shone distantly as he took her head in his hands and kissed her, his lips to hers which parted willingly for him. He seemed to awaken with the contact and for just those few moments she imagined that everything was _fine_. He pulled back long before she was ready, making her gasp slightly, and looked her face, that stupid grin of his that she loved so much there against what looked as though he was surely hurting.

"Hey."

"Hey," she replied back, shaky and fighting off the crack in her voice that was forming in her throat at seeing him. "Are you hurt?" Arms circled around his neck and she leaned in and kissed his face again, adoring the feel of his skin in contact with her lips.

A rage burned up inside her, knowing what must be happening to him. She knew they wouldn't be gentle, and it ate at her stomach and pulled it into knots over how helpless she was to stop it. She had been so lost without him, without his presence to ground her and keep her steady. Help her keep her head. She needed Carver to help her figure out how to rescue Carver.

Carver kept grinning, his mouth over perfect teeth, and it was an odd expression, mixed with anxiousness and relief at the same time. She bit back all of the things she wanted to say, how worried she was, how she was sure they were hurting him, questions of what they were doing to him.

_Let him relax here, and find harbour from whatever the waking world offered._ Her mind could do without knowing the truth for now, if it meant he didn't have to talk about it.

" … it's nice to see you." The pained look on her face as he spoke couldn't be hidden.

It was, however, a miracle to see him. "I've missed you, too." She cradled his head carefully, the touch driving her almost to tears after so long.

He inhaled into her hair, and she'd almost forgotten the light touches, the small things, that she took for granted every day that they were together until he was taken from her. The feel of his hand brushing hair behind her ears. The feel of him at all.

She'd felled dragons, and set kings on thrones, but the brave look on his face, the almost protective look that showed on _his face_ almost undid her. Leaning against him, wishing it was real. Wishing she could turn the days back to the simpler times back at Vigil's Keep when she'd complained that she was _bored_ going day to day like normal people. At this moment in time she she'd trade in all her titles and armour and even her swords to reclaim that normal life and tuck him away somewhere. Somewhere safe and together.

"I half expected you to hit me," came out in a weak chuckle, and she let him pull her closer, drinking in the warmth that was his arms around her.

"I should. You deserve it." Waking up with that knot on her head had driven her to anger that had held the grief of her loss at bay. "But I underestimated how happy I'd be to see you. I'm still angry, but it doesn't matter. Not now. You're here, for however long." The place where his neck and shoulder came together always seemed like it was hollowed out for her nose to nuzzle into. "Maker, I needed this."

It was stupid to say, and she knew it. _She_ wasn't enduring torture. _She_ simply missed him. Simple and not.

"Oh, Maker, I did too." So soft she'd almost missed it, and it stung in her heart. Leliana was good at what she'd done, and Kahrin had met Marjolaine. She had an idea. The tension began to melt away from him as she ran fingers through his hair and closed her eyes and remembered the sound of his breathing, rhythmic like the tide. "Just don't hit me yet."

It was the furthest thing from her mind.

"May I sit in your lap?" She wouldn't openly challenge how strong he was at the moment, if he was too exhausted.

He pulled her into his lap and it brought a wave of relief. He settled her facing him and it was almost like nothing was wrong for those few moments. Leaning her forehead against his chest she inhaled sharply as his lips met her neck and his hands slid down over her hips. She ran her hands up his chest and locked her fingers around his neck and silently begged the Maker to let him remain here. Fingers curled over the back of his neck and from her position it felt like they had equal need.

"Don't stop, Maker's breath," she kissed him hard, breathing in his breath, filling the hollow place where his being missing was hurting her. "Even if it's not real, just …"

"Feels real. That's what matters." The words spoken into her neck made her breath hitch and a slightly strangled sob catch in her throat.

How long could they stay like this, in a dream, when the events of the world had torn them apart?

Kahrin felt him wince, and her eyes shot open before she was ready for him to break the kiss.

"No, no."

"Shh... love. What do I need to know, I don't know how much time I'll have here."

She shook her head hard and buried her face in his shoulder, then steeled herself and leaned back.

"We have someone there, trying to find you. Alim and I will be there as fast as we are able." Dread in her stomach told her that their time was running out. "You can't go yet, it's too soon."

Carver let out a soft sigh that was akin to relief at her words, and he hid it admirably, though she knew better. "No, not yet. I can sleep. Lots of sleep … is good." It was hardly reassuring, especially when paired with his weak laugh. Even in the Fade he sounded tired, and she knew he was trying to keep her from worrying.

"Good. I hope it's … the kind of sleep you need," and not the result of some poison or exhaustion from torture. "Know this: if she's hurt you, I will kill her." Kissing along his neck softly, she spoke sadly. "I was supposed to keep you safe."

His laugh was an odd sound in juxtaposition to her mood. When he spoke to her it was soft, and working on being reassuring. "No. Not your job. Your job is to be you. You do that brilliantly, thank the Maker." He met her mouth with his again and she could feel the slight tremble of his lip when she caught it between hers and sucked on it lightly.

The thought that any moment the dream could end for either of them pushed her to press herself against him, holding him around the neck with a slight desperation. Everything in her was struggling to not cry and fall apart in the precious moments they had together.

"It's because of you. I didn't shine until I met you." A sob threatened to erupt from her and she choked it back and kissed along his neck and jaw to keep her mouth from letting it go. "Why did you let them take you? I'd have stood by you, fought with you."

Keeping her hands to appropriate places in the middle of this bar didn't even cross her mind, she needed to feel his skin, to have a sense of him near her. Fingers gripped her hips.

"Of course you would have," his uneven breath was in her ear. "And you would have … fought … and possibly died." Her heart fluttered knowing she was causing the breaks in his speech, and not the fatigue of what he was no doubt enduring in Orlais. "Forgive me if I want us both alive. Alive … is always better. _Always_." His voice dipped low. "Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, love."

Very explicit promises spilled from Kahrin's mouth, contingent upon his surviving long enough for her to get to him. She didn't have a solid plan beyond 'get to Orlais, get to Carver, now', but damn the world to the Void if she wasn't going to drag him out of the White Spire one way or another. "That is my word, and you can hold me to it." Her hands wandered about anywhere she could get purchase. "Is there anything you want? Right now?"

_Please just give me more time_.

Carver groaned almost inaudibly, she felt it before she heard it. "No, just you."

She ran her mouth along his neck, then his jaw, and tilted his head back to get to his throat. "I need to know, in case I don't make it there in time … do you have any regrets? With us?"

He pulled back from her, clearly puzzled. "Why would I have regrets? Of course not."

Sadly, and softly, she answered.

"I haven't always had time to say goodbye to people I've lost. I don't want that to happen again."

"Don't fuss, love, I'll … I'll be out of here before you know it."

She pushed up on her knees which were on either side of his hips. "I know. But you know me, I worry." Kissing his forehead, his nose, his chin, then finally his mouth, she wrapped her arms firmly around him, memorizing the smell of him, the taste, the warmth of his body to hers. "I'm just making sure."

The tugging of the waking world pulled on her, and she felt him slipping as well. She fought her mind to stay here. _Just a few minutes more, please_.

"You won't lose me, love. I promise," he held her to him, tight. "I sodding prom- oh fuck." He kissed her hard one more time as he began to fade away. "Love you."

Her hands held tight to what she could still feel. "No, Carver. Please. It's not _enough time_. Please, don't leave me. _It's not enough time_."

But he was already gone, and so was she, waking up in her tent in camp, already letting free her tears.


	3. Favors

The letter from Stroud had been vague, at best. Not that she'd expected much else from him. She hadn't, however, expected him to ask a favor, and it had rankled her a bit, him presuming she had nothing better to do than chase down and follow up on __his__Wardens. She wasn't a baby-sitter, and it wasn't as if the Vimmarks were a convenient day-trip for her.

Still, the insufficient details of the letter had intrigued her. She'd never even heard of the location – Warden Prison or no – and self-preservation was not high on her list of priorities, so, leaving Howe a note on his desk, she left before dawn.

It wasn't unlike her to just disappear for periods of time, and Nathaniel would grudgingly accept it.

It hadn't taken much to secure ship's passage across the Waking Sea. She was recognizable enough that most of the captains had no trouble taking her aboard. She was good for the work to assist, though no one would deign to ask her to do so. Kahrin enjoyed pitching in anyhow, and did so anywhere that she wasn't in the way.

She'd never been to sea before, but overall she found it to be a pleasant way to travel. The gentle rocking of the ship beneath her took a bit of getting used to, but now as she stood at the bow, leaning against the foremast, she'd learned to appreciate it and to adjust for it.

Kahrin figured that she'd be able to supply and get a horse in Kirkwall, tarry one night, and then head out early. She liked plans, usually, and it seemed as good as any. Traveling alone felt good, both purposeful and quiet – full of time to sit alone with her thoughts.

Those were the last of the plans she had, because when she arrived at the location written in Stroud's letter, anything she may have been expecting was promptly tossed aside. Dead Carta members were littered everywhere. There was obvious evidence of a battle, and a trail of bodies that she followed easily. She had expected to feel the gentle tug of other Wardens due to the nature of what Stroud had written, but she hadn't expected something to feel so _familiar_ to her.

She was small, but she moved quickly, catching up to them before they had gotten too far into the vast structure of twists and turns lined with large tapestries woven into the double-griffon similar to the one fit over her own armour. The place whispered and sang and her veins crawled with the itch of darkspawn that she couldn't yet see, but knew were there. The back of her mind scratched with something almost like a drum but slightly like the boom of a voice off in the distance.

The pull of her blood lead her right to them, and when the massive firestorm cleared from the room and left behind the distinct smell of charred darkspawn, she saw them. All of them. Two familiar faces and two not, but even that wasn't clear, because one of the latter tugged at her senses in familiarity.

The red-headed woman rounded on her right away, staff raised as if she was a threat, and Kahrin pulled her will, ready to smite if she had to, though she didn't __want__to. She suspected that the extremely tall young man behind her was her quarry, and this wasn't the best way to begin a conversation that ended with 'I've been looking for you'.

"Saoirse, wait," an all-too-familiar voice cautioned the woman and she hesitated and looked at the mage beside her.

"Anders?" Kahrin narrowed her eyes slightly, hardly believing what she was seeing.

"What are you doing here?" they both said in unison.

"Stroud sent me," she said simply, as if that explained absolutely everything. Of all the places to run into the wayward mage, she would not have expected it to be here. Maker's tattooed butt cheeks it was a relief to see him alive.

"Stroud?" That came from the man in the back beside …

__Oh shit, really? Is that___ … _

"Well, well, look who it is? How are you doing, Kitten?" Isabela cocked her hip to the side with that damnable smirk that made awkwardness and a distant memory flush Kahrin's face. She stumbled over a few things that might have sounded like they were words had she had any that were anything in the vicinity of coherent thought.

"Well, if the happy reunion is over, I only need to know one thing?" The tone was crisp and no-nonsense, though not cold or hostile. "Are you here to help or hinder?" The redhead crossed her arms over her chest, her staff tucked in the crook of her arm. I_s that a naked woman on the top of it_?

Kahrin kept her chin up, meeting the woman's hard look equally with one of her own. "I help. It's this thing I do. Only if asked nicely," she pulled the winged-griffon helm from her head, scanning the little group, "and from what I can _feel_, there are a lot of darkspawn using their manners today."

"Right. Let's go then," the mage turned on her heel and started down the dark passage as if she expected them to follow. Anders gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, a ghost of his old smile haunting the heavy features of his weary-looking face, then followed after her.

Isabela gave her a quick wink and lowered her voice _almost_ just for her ears, "How's the King doing, Kitten?"

"Not the time, Bela," Kahrin scratched at the knot of her hair secured to the back of her head, and fell in behind them as the pirate smirked and followed after the two ahead of them.

The tall man hesitated enough for her to catch up, then shortened his stride to match.

"Hey, don't mind my sister. She can be a bit cranky sometimes," the other Warden walked beside her now, sword in hand, and she had to crane her neck to look into his face well over a foot above hers. "Worried someone might show her up." He gave a bit of a shrug and a half smirk, and the first thing she noticed was the colour of his eyes. Like honey.

Kahrin shook that thought from her head.

She moved both swords to one hand, and offered it to him to shake. "I'm Commander Cousland," and her voice was far more confident that she suddenly felt.

He gave her a quick raise of an eyebrow, then took her free hand and shook it once, firmly. "Carver Hawke." Kahrin couldn't quite read the look on his face. Blessedly it wasn't an impressed one, possibly skeptical, definitely bordering between amused and a scowl.

_Of course he was_. "Well, then, it seems I was sent here to find you, Warden." She held his grasp perhaps a moment longer than she should have, scanned his face briefly, smiling slightly despite herself, then jerked her head towards the others. "Shall we? I think there are some genlocks in need of their entrails being their extrails."

She walked ahead not waiting for an answer, and felt him following just behind her.

It made her blood sing, and she smiled again, when she thought he couldn't see her, at how nice that felt.


	4. Forged

The fire crackled between them in the otherwise crushing silence. Kahrin focused on cleaning the plates from her armour lest the blood that had caked up on it begin to erode them. She scrubbed at the tiny bits where it was the most difficult to wipe, but her fingers were tiny and she made due.

She didn't mind solitude, and after their fight in the bowels of the Warden prison, after they'd had to smite and basically beat one of her dearest friends to the ground. The Taint that she shared with him had gripped his mind, and she couldn't blame the rest of them for their reactions. If they needed time alone, they should have it. It wasn't as though she hadn't known what it was like to need that sort of separation.

She glanced up at the other Warden across from her at the fire, working cleaning powder into his greatsword. He scrubbed with a familiar gusto, caring for the blade in a way that was too familiar. He knew what he was about with the blade, and she simply sat and watched him for a while, forgetting that she was staring until he looked up at her. That was the point she looked back down at her plates and kept cleaning them.

She was far too old and hopefully too smart now, to get caught up in a pretty face.

He wasn't just a face, though. They'd spent the last couple of days fighting nearly side by side. Watching him move was akin to watching the cogs in a simple gear work, every part of him a separate wheel that worked together as a whole to accomplish a task. He took to fighting darkspawn as if he were born to do it. Even though Anders had said as much in a manner that hadn't sounded complimentary, when she'd said it, it was one of the highest praises she could pay.

"That's a fine blade you have, Warden," she said before she realized she was speaking.

"What?," he seemed almost started out of some distant reverie. "Oh, this? Yeah … it was a gift from my sister." He shrugged, gave her a half smile and continued polishing.

"You take good care of it," she swore in her mind, wondering why she was still speaking. She knew why. It was quiet and even she craved people to talk to once in a while. She'd been known to find even Nathaniel pleasant enough company when she was lonely enough.

This time he tilted his head at her and lifted a dark eyebrow, and she found herself admiring the curve of his forehead and arch of his nose before she shook her head.

"Thank you, Commander," he said, nodding his head finally.

"I'm not your Commander. Call me Kahrin."

"Right," he laid the blade across his lap. "All right, Kahrin, then."

She set her plates aside and began working on her swords, starting with her family blade. It was not magically enchanted against the taint, and it was so old she needed to be thorough. She worked her tiny finger inside an old and worn-out sock up to where the tang and hilt met until she was satisfied it was cleaned and moved on to the sword once wielded by King Maric. Even in the dark of their camp the runes glowed softly while she scrubbed at the ornate hilt.

"Thank you, Warden," she was half distracted in her work.

"Carver," he shrugged again.

"What?" she looked up.

"If I can't call you 'Commander', then it … I don't know, feels wrong for you to call me 'Warden'." He sounded a lot lighter than his dour expression let on.

She looked in his eyes across the campfire, the light casting shadows that accentuated the cut of his jaw. "Right. Well, fair enough," she pulled her eyes back to her sword. "Very well, Carver."

"That's really nice too, you know," he broke the silence again.

"I'm sorry?" He was watching her now and it threw her for just a moment.

"Your sword." Carver jerked his head at the blade in her hands. "I was admiring it earlier. I mean … your sword."

Now she lifted her eyebrow, thankful that the fire hid the slight flush to her face.

"I … thank you." She blinked, searching for a bit more to say. "It's … it's dwarven. The runes, they …" taking a deep breath she stood up and walked around the fire and sat near him, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him mixed with the pull of her blood which was oddly nice.

She ran her fingers along the flat of the blade pointing out the rune-work.

"It's … uh … very nice," he was almost quiet enough to be drown out by the fire. "The sword, I mean," he might have actually been smiling now.

She swallowed and nodded. "It … repels the taint. It's very old. King Maric found it …"

"I know," he chuckled a bit. "It's a bit of a legend. Along with … well, never mind."

Kahrin balanced the tip of the blade on her boot and gave him a quizzical look. "Along with … what?"

If she didn't know better, she'd have sworn he was blushing a bit.

"Oh, nothing. I mean, I heard a tale, that's all."

"There are a lot of tales about me," she said more humbly than he'd expected according to the face he made. "Not all of them are true. Which one are you referring to?"

"Oh, well … I mean … that you got that from the King of Ferelden. I mean you know. Because you … and he …"

"Ah." She nodded slowly, a slight sting in her chest. "That one is true. Mostly."

"Right," Carver turned his attention back to his sword with a crease in his brow.

"He gave it to me when I promised to marry him," she offered slowly.

"That's what I heard." He grumped it a bit, seemed a bit colder.

She was puzzled by his reaction. "Yours is really big," she blurted out, trying to resuscitate the conversation. It was so nice to just talk to someone. When he glanced at her like she was a two-headed mabari she realized what she'd said and slapped a palm against her face. "Your sword. It's a big sword." Her face grew hot and she laughed at herself.

"Oh! Yes. It is, would you like to see it? The sword, I mean." He stood up and held it against his boot. It was nearly as tall as he was, easily taller than she was. "I mean, it's really heavy, so you have to hold it differently.

She rolled her eyes, laughing. "I know my way around a sword, Warden … I mean, Carver." Rising up to her feet she sheathed her swords and held out her hand. "Teach me the proper technique, then."

He handed the pommel to her carefully, his fingers brushing gently over her knuckles and sending a flash of goose-flesh up her arm that she was grateful he couldn't see. She curled her fingers over the pommel, then added the other hand. There was no way she'd be able to heft it, and she knew it, but she hadn't expected the full weight when he let go. It jerked on her shoulders as she gripped it hard to prevent dropping it.

He laughed with a deep peal and stood behind her, wrapping one arm and then the other around to adjust her hands. His hands, she noticed, were callused like hers, but in different places. And very warm.

"Like this," he corrected. "Now widen your stance just a bit, more straight than the way you stand."

"You were watching me?" she turned her face up to look at him, the corner of her mouth turning up slightly at the way his whiskey coloured eyes crinkled just slightly.

"I … no. I mean, well, yes. You fight differently than I … I didn't mean to look …" He took a deep breath. "I liked watching you fight." He leaned down a bit more, settling the front of him against her back and head, and without realizing she leaned into the contact.

Kahrin swallowed hard, a nervous chuckle escaping her throat. "I wasn't clear before," she managed, though there was a slight warble to her voice. "About the King."

He stiffened, and backed up half a step. "Oh."

"I mean … yes, I got the sword from him … but I didn't … we aren't …" even as it stung, it didn't sting as much as hit had. "Not anymore."

It took a few minutes for what she said to register with him. "Oh! So you aren't …"

"No. I'm not." She turned slightly in his arms, lifting her chin up. He was so much taller than she was. Head and shoulders easily.

"Right. Well … that's … nice." He leaned closer and she realized she was holding her breath.

"Hey, you two," the voice sailed through the quiet almost too cheerily, and the two of them jumped apart, Kahrin nearly dropping Carver's sword under the full weight of it again.

"_Saoirse_," he grumbled. "I though you'd gone to bed with Magey."

The Champion's face pulled up into a quirky smile on one side, looking between the two of them knowingly. "I thought I'd check on my baby brother and see how he was getting on." She was fully grinning now. "I see he's getting on just fine."

"We were … the swords. It's a nice sword. He said you gave it to him." Kahrin's face was so hot she was fairly sure that anyone could feel the heat rolling off of her cheeks.

"I did." Her hazel eyes, almost the same colour as Kahrin's own, danced in the firelight. "It seems you have a good handle on … my brother's sword, so I'll leave you two kids alone."

"Saoirse," Carver's tone was warning, and the redhead seemed to rise to the challenge.

"Don't mind me," she said brightly. "I wouldn't dream of interrupting." She paused with a look of mischief. "Personally, I think he needs to get laid."

Kahrin nearly dropped the sword again. She managed to slay dragons and kill an archdemon, but this woman had her sweating so hard she thought she was going to soak her tunic through.

"Why don't you stop talking and never say anything, ever again, _Sisi._"

Saoirse barked a laugh and shrugged. "Be careful you two," and with that she turned back towards her tent, humming the whole way.

"I'm really sorry about …" he gestured in the direction that his sister had just gone.

Kahrin worked her jaw a few times, trying to think of something – anything – to say. "It's fine, I mean, I wasn't … I hope you didn't think …"

"Oh, no. I mean, that wouldn't be …" he stumbled over the words nervously. "Oh, bugger it all."

She stuttered back half a step when he closed the distance between them, cupping a hand behind her neck and catching her mouth with his before she could react. She stood frozen for a moment, then finally eased into his lips, parting her mouth for his. She slid an arm up and around his neck, forgetting the sword between them and nearly dropping it.

The kiss broke before she was ready, but he caught the sword before she dropped it and it hit the ground.

"I … uh … think we can put the sword down," he voice was deep in the quiet. "Just in case. You know."

Kahrin giggled softly and nodded her head as he fit the sword back into its sheath. She stepped back towards him and he pulled her against him. This time she was ready, and explored his mouth with her tongue when he leaned to her again.

Pulling back enough to be able to speak into his ear, she tried to be heard over the pounding of heart against ribs. "Do you have your own tent, Warden?"

He stood up a big straighter and looked at her, cheeks red. "I do, actually," he sounded incredibly proud of that.

Giving him a smile, Kahrin shook her head a bit. That wasn't the answer she'd been hoping for.

Off in the distance they her a giggle burst out, and Carver palmed his face.

"I was supposed to say 'no' there, wasn't I?"

Kahrin nodded, threading fingers into his and pulling gently on his arm. "Yes, but I won't hold it against you." She backed towards her own tent, and he followed, squeezing her hand gently.


	5. Fortitude

"Saoirse!" Kahrin was yelling at the top of her lungs before they were through the main doors of Vigil's Keep. It was an impressive volume, honed after years of barking orders as if she meant to be obeyed. She needed a large voice to offset her presence, even though Kahrin was never afraid to take up space in any room.

Carver was fast on her heels behind her. The notice in Denerim had alarmed them both, but not as alarming as having run into the man face to face in the Gnawed Noble. Kahrin had stupidly introduced herself to the auburn-haired man, never considering what it meant for a person to not only not recognize her on sight, but one a stranger could be doing looking for them in Denerim. She hadn't been thinking clearly.

"Sisi," Carver shouted again and passed Kahrin on the stairs winding up towards the sleeping quarters. By the time Kahrin had caught up to him he was pounding on Saoirse and Anders' chamber doors "Wake up."

Anders opened the door in only loose pants, blinking against the dim lantern light in the dark hallway.

"Carver? Kahrin? What's …"

"Vael, Sebastian Vael," Kahrin managed, sliding past her husband's arm to stand between he and the mage.

Anders' eyebrow raised slightly. "As in, the Prince of Starkhaven?"

"That's the one. I apologize, Anders, I had no idea who he was." She swallowed hard, and Carver picked up the thread of the story.

"He was looking for you and Sisi. I … I didn't recognize him. It's been really too long."

"He recognized Carver, and our name. We rode straight through to get here. He doesn't know _where_ we are, but it won't take him long to figure out-"

"Right," Anders was already in motion before they had their story half out. He kissed Saoirse's brow, rousing her gently, and then began shoving things into their packs. "It's not your fault. We knew this could happen. We need to be out of here before he gets here. You don't need him on your doorstep."

Saoirse unpacked and refolded everything Anders had packed, making it neat and a more efficient use of the space. "We're sorry, you two."

Kahrin shook her head. "It isn't anything we can't handle," she said with increasing calm. She paused, considering her brother-in-law as he pulled his jacket and pauldrons on. "You can't go out like that. You need a disguise. I think I have just the thing."

Carver stayed to help them pack and Kahrin jogged down the hall to her private amroury. It was little more than a glorified closet where she kept her armour and weapons that she wasn't using. Her father's shield hung on the wall, the dagger Fergus had given her as a young girl training with blades on a small stand, and in the far corner on side by side racks, two sets of templar armour.

Frowning slightly, she ran her fingers lightly down the Sword of Mercy on the front of the chest plate, winding a small section of the purple under robe around her thumb. They were about the same height, and Anders, being merged with Justice and the parcel of all of his abilities, would be able to handle the weight of it. It was time to part with it, and this was as good a reason as any. The pauldrons were slightly out-dated, but it would get them out of Amaranthine. She could recommend a smith a few holdings over who could handle the updates. With a glance at the much smaller suit on the rack next to it, she pulled the larger one off of the rack, balancing it awkwardly in her arms. She leaned over to pick the helm up from a small shelf and turned back to the room where Anders and Saoirse were finishing up packing.

"What is that?" Saoirse ran a hand over her swollen stomach, fastening the belt of the Circle robes she'd had from Kirkwall and which still fit her. She gave Kahrin's load a skeptical look.

"Templar armour," Kahrin thought it should have been obvious.

"What are we going to do with that?" she asked, looking at the helm distastefully.

"Anders is going to wear it. It should fit him."

Blue eyes flashed at the chest plate but Anders picked it up anyhow, obviously seeing the sense in her suggestion. He shrugged his jacket off and began pulling on the robes. "Thank you," he muttered, pulling the various plates on. "Does this smell like cheese to anyone else?" he looked at Kahrin quizzically, then understanding dawned on his face and he said no more.

Kahrin rubbed her forehead in a bit of exhaustion. "Fergus," she groaned.

"What, love?" Carver put a hand on her shoulder.

"Fergus was on his way. He wanted to visit after," she waved a hand, her head muddled with too many things at once. "I need to meet their party, and turn them around. I don't need the Teyrn of Highever here if things go wrong. He's the last of us."

"I can get the horses ready and we can leave as soon as Anders and Sisi are on their way," Carver moved towards the door. 

"No," Kahrin shook her head. "You need to stay here, Lieutenant, in case his Royal Highness shows up. With Nathaniel in Weisshaupt, someone has to be here whom I trust to be … diplomatic." The switch from names to titles drew the line that they had agreed upon to keep misunderstandings to a minimum. She was speaking to him as his Commander, now, not his wife, and he clamped his mouth shut, biting off a protestation.

"Aye, Commander." He looked slightly grumpy, but they would argue it out later. Right now, Kahrin only had a mind to hug her family in a tearful good bye before she knew they all had to go.

"Thank you, Kahr," Saoirse hugged her carefully around her stomach. "For everything."

"I'm so-" Kahrin started.

"Don't be," Anders said mildly, but firmly. "We knew we couldn't stay here forever. Once we deal with this, we'll be back as soon as we are able until after the baby comes." He hugged her tightly, and she nodded once, pausing to give Carver a brief kiss, and was down the stairs and out the doors before she could think twice.

She traded her spotted mare for a chestnut gelding that Nathaniel had favored, and handled his tack herself. With a kick of her heels she was out the yard and down the road towards the Imperial Highway, where she had the best chance of meeting Fergus' travel party.

Riding the horse hard for an hour she pulled off the road and stopped to let the gelding rest, and lead him to a small lakebed to let him drink. She rubbed the horse down and kept pulling him back so that he wouldn't drink too much too fast.

A snap spooked the gelding and caught her attention. Kahrin whipped her head around and pushed a strand of dark hair from her eyes, seeing nothing there. "Who's there?" she demanded, pulling back on the horse's reins trying to keep him from skittering off.

The sound of a hollow laugh was all the notice she got before she felt the magic hit her. Had she not had templar training it would have paralyzed her instantly, and she fought against it hard, finally wrenching her limbs to move, but losing the reins.

"I've been looking for you a long time, Hero," the mage finally stepped out of the trees, holding his hands up. He was gaunt and his hair was stringy as if he'd been on the road a very long time. His arm was running with a stream of blood down it, obviously caused by the dagger he held in his other hand. She tried to cleanse him, but it had no effect. Instead, the mage yanked his hands over his head, and though she focused all of her willpower against it, she was jerked to standing straight with her head tilted back slightly.

She couldn't even cry out against the way that the spell made her blood burn or how it hurt her joints to be yanked involuntarily. She struggled against it, trying to summon a smite, but her will faltered before it was drawn.

"You destroyed our home. You forced those of us who lived through your little slaughter spree through the Tower to have to flee for our lives." He wrenched his hands further apart, the blood that had been running along his arm began to swirl into the air. With his movements she was jerked again, this time she did cry involuntary as her back was cranked further than it was meant to go. "How does it feel to have your will yanked away from you? You only get to scream because _I_ say so. How does it feel to be powerless? To have others decide your life for you, _Hero_?

Finally the spell held her motionless, even breathing was nearly impossible and instead of trying to thwart the magic, she had to concentrate on keeping herself alive as long as possible. Her shoulders jerked until it felt like they were rent from their sockets, and the swirling of blood became large, taloned, hands.

"You took our lives, our home, and our choices. I will take every bit of it back in your blood, Warden." His nearly colourless eyes narrowed and seemed to stare through her, not at her. The taloned hands dug into her chest and shoulder casting aside shards of metal and shreds of fabric as if they weren't even there. Blood soaked into the clothes that remained, and the searing flame of pain stole even her shallow breath when her blood was finally wrenched from her in crimson swirls and splatters. More than anything she wanted to scream, to swear or yell against the pain, but instead she had to silently endure the feeling of her life slipping away. It burned cold as her heart slowed, the tightness in her chest telling her than she had only a few moments left.

She was aware, somewhere, that she'd hit the ground. It was soaked with her own blood and her face was nearly smooshed into it as if it were a pillow or Carver's shoulder.

Her last thoughts drifted to that … to Carver and how good he had been to her. How he'd managed to make her feel again. The only lament in her mind was that she wouldn't be able to tell him what had happened. She wouldn't be able to stop Fergus from visiting, or ever set things right with …

Unable to fight the heaviness anymore, she let her eyes fall closed, taking a last shallow breath before falling into what felt like a deep sleep.

Dying wasn't so bad once you got through the whole being killed part. It was warm and the light was muted yet overly bright in all directions. She recognized the Fade, or the part that she thought she was in. It didn't feel like the world or the Fade in which she dreamed. It was almost like straddling both worlds at the same time.

"Warden," the voice was firm but kind. No pity. No sorrow. Just a demand of attention. "You need to get up."

Her voice rasped from her throat. "I'm dead. I can't get up." She looked around dizzily for the source of the voice.

"Warden, I would not see you fall now. You have more work to do. Now get up. There is not much time." The spirit stepped out of no where, what looked like an outline of armour and glowing eyes through a narrow slit in a helm.

She realized then that she could move here, and propped herself up onto her elbows. "What do you mean time? I'm out of time."

The spirit spoke calmly. "I can help you. There is strength in you yet to keep fighting. I find that honorable. I am able to mend the rest."

Kahrin breathed in the Fade as if it were the air of the world of the living and the awake. It was stale and dry but didn't hurt to draw it. "Help me how?" She narrowed her eyes at the spirit. "I won't make deals with demons. I … I'm ready to die."

It almost sounded as if she believed it, and for the first time in years, she found that she didn't.

"I am no demon, Warden." He actually sounded offended in a way that was distantly familiar, but that memory was slipping away … like others that she couldn't quite hold on to.

"How do I know that for certain?" It was beginning to feel cold, and she hated being cold. At least, she thought that she did. It was all getting a bit fuzzy now. "If you were a demon, you wouldn't tell me."

"Would a demon offer you something for nothing, Warden? I simply am offering to spare your life. It is of no benefit to me. Once I am outside the Fade, I can not survive independently. There is no benefit to my leaving voluntarily."

"What do you mean 'independently'?" The truth was that Kahrin had a suspicion that she knew very well what that meant. She blinked a few times, trying to recall why that sounded familiar. "You mean to … possess me?"

"I prefer to call it merging. The merging of two of us can only make you stronger. I can spare your life, if you allow it."

"No." She said it simply and firmly. "No I can't allow that." The cold pulled at her as the pain she felt began to numb slightly. "They wouldn't understand."

"Would they accept your death more easily? Are you so ready to lie down and die? I sense more fortitude than that in you, Warden." He nodded his helm once, the soft blue giving the illusion of light glinting off of his armour. "Very well, I will not force this on you."

He turned to walk away again, and Kahrin's memories fuzzed even more. She tried to pull for faces and found only flashes and hints of images. Feelings more than firm rememberacnes.

"Will it hurt?" she asked, half-choked.

The spirit stopped and regarded her again. "I do not know, Warden. I am not familiar with pain as mortals feel it. I would imagine that it would be no worse than anything else you have endured. I also can not imagine it will be pleasant. For either of us."

"Will others know?" This seemed important to ask, though she couldn't figure out why.

"I do not intend to take over your body, mortal. If that is your concern."

Warm eyes looked at her in a memory she couldn't make clear. Warm eyes and firelight and … the smile of someone. She wasn't ready to let go.

"If this is a trick, I will take my own life," she said it resolutely and softly.

"I understand, Warden." He held out his hand to her as she tried to push herself up off of the ground.

"What do I call you?" Kahrin took his hand and he pulled her to standing.

Placing both hands on her shoulders his flashing blue eyes met hers. "I am Fortitude."

The light was violently bright, and the next sensation she felt was fullness. Painful and abrupt fullness that tore at her as if it were going to split her in two. This time she was able to cry out freely, and she did. The collision of light and spirit and body was excruciatingly intense, knocking the Fade breath out of her, and distantly she could feel that it knocked real breath from her still body as well.

A jerking motion started at her middle and pulled suddenly. She opened her eyes, seeing through a haze of bright blue into the dirt under her face. Kahrin managed to roll onto her back and look at the sky, dark and filled with stars and somewhere a part of her gasped at just how intensely beautiful stars were just as a booming voice in her mind screamed, deep and thrumming, in agony as if feeling every emotion at once. The cacophony in her head was intense and made the inside of her skull feel as if it were going to explode.

Then it was quiet, and there was nothing but blackness.


	6. Separate Ways

It had been _so damned long_. Far too long. All the years since the night she'd left Denerim for the last time, and little more than one random near-disaster later had formed into an itch that she had needed scratched hard and for as long as possible.

Which was how she found herself here, in this place, not caring that it was a tent on the floor of a tunnel underground in an ancient prison. Not caring that the man she slid against was little better than a stranger she'd known for a matter of days. A part of her should have cared, being who she was and who he was and the possible wrongness of her being the Commander of Ferelden Wardens. Should have cared that he was a junior Warden in someone else's Order. The part of her that panted his name hot into his ear and begged, pleaded and demanded more from him couldn't find it in her to care. She shut the world out of her mind and only thought of the here and now and him. Only thought how she could hold on to him with arms and legs and feel blood rushing in her veins and her heart slamming against her ribs reminding her that she was still alive.

Using her hips to encourage his pace, no more words passed between them. She faced him with her legs wrapped around his waist, pressed chest to chest and let him clasp her in massively strong arms. When he brought her to the peak of pleasure she bit into the join of his neck and shoulder to stifle her throaty cries and he spent himself deep inside with a final and forceful thrust.

She turned to slide close to him, exhausted and satisfied. Twining a leg in-between both of his she let her eyes drift closed as he pulled his fingers through her hair. It had been a long time since anyone had played with her hair, and forcing her memory to stay in the present with the pleasant sensation she slept. She slept, warm and close to another heartbeat and the presence of blood that calmed her own. When she startled awake from the nightmares brought by the darkspawn a soothing and shushing voice was there to ease her back to sleep.

She woke early as she was wont to do, dressing methodically and quickly. She spared a look to Carver, who had pillowed his head on the crook of one of his arms, a slow smirk curling her lips as she took in the sight of him with his hair mussed from what had transpired between them. She tightened her belt and started pulling her boots on.

"In a hurry?" he asked a bit groggily.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she laughed quietly. "You earned your rest."

He chuckled slightly, reaching for his undertunic and pulling it over his head. "Good to hear, Commander."

She lifted her eyebrow at the use of her title, but grinned. "Good. This isn't going to be a problem, then?" she asked, keeping her tone light. "There's no reason to-"

"Hey, I had a good time. If you had a good time, I'll call it good." He lifted his hips off the ground and pulled his trousers on.

"Pleased to hear it." Kahrin finished fastening the buckles on the plates over her boots and pushed up onto her knees, handing him his scaled tunic which had been stuck under the rumpled mess that was her bedroll. "I do aim to please. I am _very_ competitive," she purred.

Taking his tunic he grabbed her forearm and pulled her hard to him, burying fingers in her hair and crushing his mouth against hers one last time. "Then, you win."

"Let's go. I think we're the first ones up. I like to get some exercises in before breaking my fast." She rolled up her bedroll and fastened it to her pack before climbing out of the tent, Carver right behind her.

They were not, as it turned out, the first ones up. Kahrin stood up and the other three members of their group all looked at them. Anders was fussing around the campfire with the cooking pot, and lifted an eyebrow at her with that _look_ on his face.

"Don't," she said, sitting next to the fire and taking a bowl from him.

"I didn't say anything," Anders held his hands up.

"About what?" Carver helped himself and tucked into the simple breakfast

"Oh, hey you two!" Saoirse chipped in while she methodically folded things and put them in her pack. "Did you have a nice night?"

Carver shot her a look, the good mood shooting from his face. "Shut up, Saoirse."

The redhead grinned with a twinkle of wickedness in her eye. "Well, I thought you'd be in a better mood." She shrugged and returned to her pack with a giggle.

"Actually it was fantastic. There's something to be said for being a Warden. The stamina boost is amazing," Kahrin said off-handedly, picking at her meal.

"OK, I really didn't need to remember that you were both Wardens." She shook her head with a mildly horrified face and turned to pack up her tent.

Kahrin shrugged. "Don't ask questions to which you don't wish to know the answer." She looked at Carver and they exchange a smirk. He let one shoulder lift and fall.

"Hey, Carver, does she still do that thing where she-"

"Isabela!" Kahrin shot her a look.

"I just think that you should give him the full tour, pet."

She set her lips in a firm line, but her face flushed hot beneath her dark complexion that matched the pirate's. "Well, I think it's time to get moving." She stood, checking that her swords were clear in their scabbards and the straps tight.

They made their way to the surface finally, mostly in silence apart from Isabela occasionally filling the long gaps of quiet with pithy innuendo.

Reaching the road again, Kahrin shouldered her pack. She gave Saoirse a firm nod, and clasped elbows with Anders.

"It's good to see you … well at all. I'm glad you're still alive." She searched his face, wondering if Justice was in there, if he could hear her. "Both of you." Her face screwed up slightly. "Take care."

"I will." He winked at her and she turned to head on her way.

She took two steps in her direction, before she turned back for just a moment, biting the inside of her mouth.

"Hey, Warden," she called, a half grin. "It was good to meet you. Nice work back there." She let the innuendo drop and speak for itself before she shrugged and set out.

~^v^~

Nathaniel flipped through the missive with the file in his hand while he walked up the stairs and past the bend in them to Kahrin's office. Commander wasn't going to be pleased, though when was she ever? Stroud had a nasty habit of dropping things in her lap and expecting that she would always acquiesce, Hero or no.

One hand shoved into her hair she sat hunched over her desk, a smudge of ink on her face. The way her tattooed brow was furrowed told him everything he needed to know about what she was focused on over her desk. They had known one another nearly their whole lives, across a divide of what often felt like two separate lifetimes. He knew that look well.

Clearing this throat, he walked up to the front of the desk, waiting until she looked up at him before sliding the file and missive across her mess of a desk.

"Commander," he spoke softly. "I thought you would be interested in this."

"What is this?" she asked picking it up and flipping a few pages. Her face darkened slightly and she shot a look back at him "He has a lot of nerve, you know. He just wants to dump his problems on-"

"Actually," Nathaniel nearly smirked at her. "Not to interrupt what I am certain was going to be an excellently-worded rant, Commander, but you should consider reading through the file. This one seems to be a model Warden. Whatever you remember of the Hawkes-"

"Hawke?" Kahrin looked up and blinked at him. "As in, the Hawkes formerly of Kirkwall?" Her eyebrow took on a will of its own and threatened to leave her forehead.

"The very same," he said mildly.

She turned her head back down to the correspondence on her desk, smudging the ink across her cheek again. He reached forward without another word and wiped it with the thumb of his glove.

"Kahrin," he changed tone and dropped the titles for a moment.

"What is it, love?" She sighed tiredly and sat back in her chair. It rankled him slightly when she called him that. It was something she tossed around casually, though there was no affection behind it. It was a term of endearment, nearly synonymous with "friend" in her mind.

"Have you given any more thought to my … suggestion?" He sat lightly on the edge of her desk and crossed his arms over his chest plate.

"Your suggestion?" She turned her hazel eyes up at him. "Oh. That," she said it almost dismissively. She tuned the quill over in her hand and stared at it, separating and then re-smoothing the barbs of the vane.

"Yes, that." He tilted his head at her slightly. "It is a sensible idea, do you not agree?"

"I suppose. Even if it isn't necessary." She set the quill down finally and offered him a tight smile. "We've known one another a very long time. Just … give me some time to think it over. This is no small thing you are asking of me. Considering …"

He nodded. "Considering a lot of things." Standing up, he flicked the file on her desk, smoothly transitioning from friends back to the roles of Commander and Lieutenant. "At any rate, if you would like to meet the boy, he is waiting down in the main hall."

Kahrin laughed, shaking her head. "That is so like you. You could have brought him up with you," she laughed at him, though in the back of her mind, she had a slight tinge of guilt.

"Then I wouldn't have had a moment alone to discuss … things. Come then, let us go down and greet him properly. I don't think that my first impressions are always the most favorable." He strode to the door and held it open for her, which won him the favor of an eyeroll.

~^v^~

Carver heaved a sigh and held his pack in one hand at his side. He didn't know how long he had been standing down here like some Blighter, but it shouldn't have taken Lieutenant Howe _that_ long to run and fetch his Commander.

Stroud had made quick work of shuffling him out of _his_ order after Kirkwall. Didn't want the Hawke name to bring trouble on _his_ Wardens, he said. Didn't need the extra headache of Chantry Seekers looking for his sodding sister, so he had given Carver a few choices, and unthinkingly, he had chosen Ferelden. It was where they were from, after all.

The drawback of that choice became clear quickly, and he wasn't exactly sure _why_ he hadn't put it together on his own prior to this moment. He hadn't planned on seeing her again, and really why would he have? It hadn't been anything more than two people in a moment, and they had seemed perfectly fine leaving it at that. They were Wardens, with significant differences in rank. Though he wasn't going to turn down a pretty woman who had been as obviously interested in the idea as he had been.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed as if she owned the world, hair bound up neatly, but it looked slightly ruffled on the top as if she'd been fussing at it. The blood-red leather of her armour was distinctive. It didn't take a long career to guess what it was made of. She still stood with that cock to her hip, her foot tapping slightly as if standing still would make her fall over dead.

That half smile she wore reminded him of things that were possibly more inappropriate now than they had been a few years ago when they'd first … met.

"Warden Hawke," she tilted her head which made the brow that was tattooed look higher than it really was. "Welcome, it's good to see you again."

She almost looked as if she might have flushed just a little across her nose and cheeks, but her features were all business.

"Commander," he shuffled from one foot to the other slightly awkward, then stood up straight, feeling his own face warm slightly.

The Maker did have a sense of humor. One that seemed content to make him the butt of the jokes.


	7. Pauses

Carver picked himself up off of the ground. His lips pulled tightly and his face caught almost in that signature scowl that was commonly seen crossing his features. Brushing himself off, he stooped and picked up his greatsword.

"You cheated," he gruffed. He cast a sharp look at his new Commander, who simply crossed her arms and raised her tattooed brow at him.

"Do you think darkspawn always fight fair, Hawke?" She sheathed her first sword, then took a few moments to wipe the blade of her second sword - King Maric's sword, the one she'd shown him a few years ago - before sheathing it as well. "When you are fighting for survival, Hawke, you use every weapon at your disposal. Grey Wardens look for their opportunity, and seize it when the moment appears."

She always called him "Hawke". Not "Hawke's baby brother" or "Hawke Junior". Never "Carver". Hawke. He was Hawke as far as she was concerned, and he'd be lying if he said that it didn't make him feel good. About a lot of things. Despite her crisp tone, it made him appreciate her a little more.

The Holy Smite she'd hit him with knocked the wind out of him. He'd thought that he'd bested her in morning sparring. She'd been backed against the low wall and he had advantage, not just by size, either. He'd actually been winning. She was remarkable at fighting, she would have had to be. It still amazed him that she could use two swords the way that she did, making it look nearly effortless for the size of her. He'd blocked her in with the flat of his larger blade cleanly stopping both of hers, thinking she'd yield. Instead, her eyes lifted nearly imperceptibly and the next thing he knew he was careening backward several feet, arse over noggin.

"Yeah, well." He lifted his shoulders and let them fall with a dry chuckle. "I guess you have that down pretty well, Commander."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, ah." He rubbed a hand down over the back of his collar-length hair which was sticking to his neck from the morning rain and exertion. "Just that, well you seem to have a few tricks up your sleeve that I hadn't expected. That's all."

The look she gave him made him wish he could sink into the ground. He had a way of pissing her off without ever meaning to. They'd gotten on well enough once, and while he had agreed that they shouldn't make a big deal about it, he didn't understand the chill in her demeanor towards him. It sometimes seemed as if they spoke different languages. Wiping his own blade clean, he sheathed it.

"Ah," she nearly breathed the word with a single nod. "Well. Like I said. Every weapon at your disposal." She hopped lightly up the steps leading to the massive front door past the portcullis. "I'm impressed." The way she said it made it sound like she was anything but that. "You fight well. Better than I'd remembered."

He wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. He didn't need to be praised. He knew what he was good at, and fighting had always been it.

"Right. Thanks." He chose to take it as one. "Ah, Commander?"

She stopped, turning on her heel to look at him. "Hawke? Did you need something further? I'm dreadfully without coffee this morning." Her mouth pulled to one side of her face, almost impatiently.

"No, I ... never-"

"Join me for breakfast, Hawke." She jerked her head in the direction of the mess hall. Commander almost never ate with the rest of them. Usually she and Lieutenant Howe ate upstairs in one of their offices.

His brow pulled together slightly and looked at her. "Now?"

She lifted both brows with wide eyes, shrugging slightly. "Unless you have better things to do. Now is breakfast."

She didn't even wait for his answer and turned on her boot. He followed her to mess, stood a respectful distance from her in line as she loaded up a plate. One of the younger cooks had a mug of coffee waiting for her before she ever made it to the end. Nodding at the boy, she still didn't wait as she strolled towards a table near the back of the room. She didn't sit, and instead waited for him, eyes following him expectantly.

Carver set his tray on the table without another word and sat heavily on the seat.

"What's on your mind, Hawke?" She didn't look at him while she pulled apart her food. She spent a lot of time not looking at him, actually. He wondered if she knew that he noticed, but he did. He had thought that what happened back in the Vimmarks was going to make things weird, but it never came up. Somehow, that made it more awkward.

He sat for a few minutes, chewing thoughtfully before he answered. "I thought you were from Highever." He was never one to mince words.

"That's right." Kahrin stopped pretending she was eating her salted pork.

"Did you ... go to the Chantry?"

"What do you mean?" She fisted a hand and leaned her chin on it, sipping her coffee. Still not looking at him.

"When did you become a templar?"

"Oh."

That was all she said for a while. She crumbled a biscuit around her plate and made a show of lifting a forkful of egg towards her mouth.

"Right." Whenever they weren't sparring, that wast the extent of their conversation. One or two word exchanges. The occasional compliment. The Berserker dwarf said that she was often like that. He was also usually pretty drunk, so Carver didn't yet know if he ever told the truth. He and the Commanders seemed to be close, though.

Carver shoveled the rest of his food down and pushed his chair back from the table to stand.

"I'm not really a templar," she finally said, more to her mug than to him.

He hesitated for a few moments in that awkward place between standing and sitting, then finally plopped back down. "Then how-"

"During the Blight. I learned from one."

"Really? I never heard about that. Was it one of the templars who-"

"No." Commander was a bit colder now.

"Right." He drummed his fingers on the table for a bit. "Is it difficult to learn? I mean, do you have to be really smart or something?"

Her mouth drew together and she looked at him finally, her jaw set. "No," she said again, sharply. "Though the one I learned from was. Brilliant actually. Just didn't realize it."

He didn't know how to respond to that, so he just went for what he wanted. "Could you teach me?" The irony in that request wasn't lost on him. They's spent half their life running from templars, now he wanted to fight like one, because it seemed useful.

Her face was nearly blank as she looked at him, and she stared almost through him for so long that he shifted uncomfortably.

"No." She stood and pushed away her plate of uneaten food. She opened her mouth as if she might say more, but instead she left. She didn't even pause as she nodded her head in greeting to Oghren on the way through.

The dwarf strode through the hall, made some obscene remark to the young cook, and piled his plate high. It took him two seconds to pick Carver out of the others. He plopped down uninvited, stinking like a still, making Carver wonder if he ever washed his beard.

"So, what'dya do to twist the Commander's smalls this morning, nug-humper?"

"What?" He honestly had no idea what he was talking about.

"I haven't seen her that worked up since ... Ah ha! You asked her about the King. Nug-humper, let me tell you something. Never, ever, bring that up. Take it from ol' Oghren. That's a road you don't wanna go down, especially if you're trying to burn the midnight oil."

Was he even speaking common any more? "What?"

"Awww, now, don't play stupid with me, junior." Carver bristled at the epithet. "The Pride of Orzammar knows a thing or two about gettin' the ol' Warden greyed in the Deep Roads, if ya catch my drift." He guffawed loudly.

"Uh, yeah. I just so we're clear, I always _catch your drift_," he said dryly, wondering why he didn't walk away from the table.

The dwarf pointed a fork at him. "Something happened back there, when Commander hopped on down to that prison. Something's got her good and agitated, and it started when you showed up here."

Carver watched him pick something out of his beard and eat it. He had a bit of an iron stomach, had even eaten a slug on a dare from Saoirse, but that even made him squirm a bit.

"Not that it's any of your business, but you're wrong."

"If ya say so," Oghren shrugged as if it was no big deal, and really, it wasn't. "Haven't seen her this worked up in a while. Just thought you should know."

Carver looked at him in near confusion for a few moments. "Right. Well, good day, then." He turned on his heel to leave.

"You should join me in the cellar for a drink sometime, nug-humper. Might work that stick out of yer arse. Clear a few things up for ya."

"Yeah. I'll keep that in mind." The Wardens of Ferelden were just as odd as he'd imagined. Some of them even worse. The dwarf's words stayed in his head, though, as he returned to his quarters to clean up for the day


End file.
